


Hawkeye and the Titans

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn't mean to fall into the other universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkeye and the Titans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gryphonrhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonrhi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Arsenal and the Avengers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911552) by [ilyena_sylph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph), [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly). 



It was just a simple recon. Go and find out why Latveria was suddenly in the market for more imports than usual, how were they paying for it, and was it true they had reverted to their monarchist ways. That was a good, light run for Hawkeye as things shook out from the changes within SHIELD. It would keep him from thinking too hard, and of course he wasn't taking Nat back into Eastern Europe.

He knew better than to go through Symkaria; they had long held non-aggression pacts and trade ties with Latveria. That meant cutting through Romania... carefully... to go in through the northeastern border. Clint had handled such infiltrations hundreds of times it felt like. He kept his head low, kept moving, using every trick of the trade to go unnoticed... all the way to the capitol. There, all the imports were noticeable; the city was damn near a replica of Science City, with laboratories and factories alike busy, and a... device at the very center of all the industry.

He'd barely made it into a good vantage point to oversee it than there was pandemonium in the streets around it. Everyone was diving for cover inside the heavily made buildings... and Clint was too far from such a thing when the device flared brightly.

Flared once, twice, and Clint lost connection with his body, consciousness, and general reality. 

+++

Brion Markov had come to mediate between General Hafza and Count Vertigo. Each side had things to offer his own country, and each other, but the religious tensions had been high of late. Getting both to a treaty table, making promises and concessions from his less isolated country, had worked well... but now he felt a disturbance nearby, outside of the neutral camp where the treaty negotiations were taking place. His feel for the Earth was flaring with 'contagion', 'alien', and 'disturbed'.

Thankfully they were in recess at current. He could take a walk with his known restlessness, and see what there was to find.

It did not take long for him to leave the camp, and then it was only a few minutes' flight to the site of the disturbance. Part of a steel scaffolding listed against one of the oaks, and across two of its beams -- a man? 

Brion blinked and lifted himself to the level of the man, moving to just shy of arm's reach. Light brunette hair, almost blond, and tanned but still pale skin -- mostly visible at face and arms, the rest of his body covered by form-fitting dark armor. The compound longbow, bracers on either arm, and quiver across the man's back made him curious. This was no one he knew, but there were few enough in the community (on either side) that carried bows. He did not know the young Green Arrow, but he was familiar with Arsenal, who this most certainly was not. 

The steel, the very earth below it, they did not feel part of this world. They were near to giving him a headache, if he admitted the truth to himself. "Stranger," he said, his voice low, "can you hear me?" 

Clint felt his head swimming and he was pretty certain he had been shredded and put back together with superglue, even if his body did not show it. At least Loki's damn thing had been instant. Without moving he could be certain he was still armored and armed which counted for something. 

And then there was a voice, speaking to him in a dialect that was closer to Swiss than anything else he could remember. It was either play dead, or take a chance on this person. The Swiss were neutral, right?

"My English is better than anything else," Clint told the man as he raised his head slowly, ignoring the explosion of pain that brought. He had never been the best at hiding the accent, so why try to farce through something else?

"Mine is... conversational, if not completely fluent," Brion answered, relieved that the man was not only breathing but coming conscious. "I do not think you are where you were a very short time ago, stranger. Were you the cause of the arrival?" 

"Not if this is no longer Latveria. I'm guessing their king really is blending science to magic if I'm not there now," Clint answered as he pushed -- carefully -- to where he could see the man addressing him. Earthtones, big target in the middle that might be the letters G and F. Something about the fit of the suit was ringing a bell. "Ever met someone called Arsenal?" he asked as he just went with his gut instincts.

If he was right, Nat might kill him. Or worse, he might owe Stark. If he was lucky, it would be Selvig to solve the problem though. And Nat would then kill him.

"I know of no country named 'Latveria'," Brion answered, watching the stranger. The question surprised him, but he nodded after a moment. "I know Arsenal... not well, but somewhat. Well, if there is strangeness, it is often the Titans who find it. Would it suit you for me to contact him? I cannot long leave the negotiations I am presiding over, but I would not leave a stranger alone."

"I'll sit and wait. As long as sitting and waiting will not get me shot or make me shoot back," Clint said in a reasonable tone. "You can tell Arsenal that it's Hawkeye." He took a slow appraisal of his situation; at least the native wasn't already trying to kill him.

"I prefer not to begin trouble," Brion agreed, and fished down into a pocket of his uniform, finding the Titans communicator he still carried. He flicked it active, and said mildly, "Hello the Tower, it's GeoForce. Arsenal around?" 

"GeoForce?" Damage had to refer to the database, coming up with League and Outsiders credentials for the hero. "Sure, hang on." He patched it through to Arsenal's comm. "Chief got some GeoForce on the line for you." He cut himself out then, leaving Arsenal with the other hero.

"GeoForce? Long time no hear-from. Last time I heard, you'd gone back to being a king full time," Arsenal said.

"I am, but I couldn't ignore something happening pretty much on my doorstep. You know someone named Hawkeye?" 

Arsenal sat up from where he'd been lounging, dropping the game controller. "Yeah I do, but… where are you? Markovia? I'll be right there."

"On the border between Markovia and Vlatava, yes. So the sooner you get here, the better," Brion agreed. "I'll leave my communicator live for you." 

"Appreciate it, man." Arsenal went to where Garth was working with Toni on some tactics. "Yo, Fishbreath, can you keep the baby?"

"Troia said you weren't allowed out of the Tower alone," Argent teased the archer.

"Great, then you're elected to come with me," Arsenal replied, amused. "C'mon, we're got to go get to central Europe, preferably fifteen minutes ago." 

"Sure leave me with the baby and take the cute girl away," Garth retorted, but he was smiling and nodding. "Be careful." He started cleaning up from the lesson so he could go check in on his son and 'niece'.

"Any cute hunks there?" Argent asked. "Or a chance to stop in Prague for a new dress?"

"Might need to stop for street clothes on the way back, actually, I'll keep Prague in mind," Arsenal replied, cracking a grin at her as he jogged for the nearest elevator to the hangar. "Apparently my little dimensional bobble went the other way this time. Must have a thing for archers, because it's Hawkeye."

"Not the hunky one with the cute rearend?" Argent asked, reaching out to grab him and just shoot them up the shaft at the stairwell, since it was faster. "Oh well, can't have all the fun I guess." She had been settling, slowly, into her role as the nominal lead for the younger members of the current team. Since only she and Damage actually stayed at the Tower more than anywhere else, this was a pretty easy job.

"Seem to recall that Hawkeye was pretty easy on the eyes," Arsenal replied as they leveled out on the hangar level. "But no, not Cap." 

Four-person jet, not the big team one or their fastest two-seater, he decided and started that pre-flight as he reached it. 

+++ 

"Arsenal says he's on his way," Brion told the stranger -- Hawkeye -- as he tucked the still-live comm back away. "Hour and a half, maybe two." 

"I appreciate it. I have water and ration bars, so you mind if I just settle into what shade I've got here to wait on them? Wasn't trying to listen in," except Clint wasn't stupid and totally had, "but sounds like you're doing important things. Promise I'm not moving until Arsenal is here; I owe him."

Brion studied him thoughtfully, evaluating the sincerity there. Arsenal hadn't sounded concerned, so after a few moments he nodded slowly. "That's a better idea than bringing an unknown and armed party back with me, so no, I don't mind. Arsenal has sense, he'll come in through my airspace and not Vlatavan. If I don't see you again, be well." 

"Be well, and good luck on what you're doing," Clint said, projecting as friendly a presence as he could. If he was in that other world, he sure as hell needed to make friends, not enemies. Nat would be pissed at him if someone else actually managed to kill him first. He started moving from where he had been, ignoring the creaks and groans of the metal, until he was down on the ground. He checked how it was leaning, did a quick estimate of the physics of its angle, and decided he could stay under it without a sudden collapse.

Brion followed him down to the ground, careful with the null-gravity, then lifted one hand in a momentary wave before he took to the air again. The man might not be what he seemed, but Arsenal would not -- knowingly -- have sounded so calm about an enemy. All the same, he would ensure that both leaders remained well under cover until he knew that the Titans were gone again. 

+++

Clint's sharp eyes took in the jet coming down for a landing and put as many details into his memory as he could. It looked sleek, small, and fast. A little different in aerodynamics, and not as heavily armored as the ones he normally flew, but it looked good in theory.

He stepped out as it settled, shading his eyes -- which put his hand that much closer to the quiver -- to watch for who came off of it. 

Arsenal checked the area, eyeing the half-a-scaffolding listing crazily against a tree... and yep, there was Hawkeye. He walked down the T-jet's back ramp, lifting one hand in a lazy wave. "Hey, Hawkeye. I'd ask what in the hell you're doing here, but I don't really think it was your idea. Bored of staring at tree-trunks yet?" 

"Terribly. They don't move much." Clint started toward the familiar face, and was damned glad that if the universe -- and Victor von Doom -- had to throw him somewhere else, it was somewhere with an ally. "I suppose I will have to camp out here with you until Selvig or Stark or Banner or Ross or Foster or some unholy combination of them figure this out." Clint gave a tight smile on the heels of those words. "I'm hoping for Selvig. I like a man with the balls to try and outdrink a Norse god."

His hair was longer, the costume was different, and the SHIELD patch had been replaced by an Avengers' one. Roy also thought the bow handle looked a little different than he'd glimpsed after New York.

"Or Cyborg and Mr. Terrific will figure out how to get you back home before your bunch manages it," Roy said with a grin, "They already know the address. ....wait. Wait. Somebody tried to _out-drink_ **Thor**? Are you shitting me, Hawkeye?" The Avengers patch looked good on him. Good to know Steve and Tony had kept up with their plans, at least enough to get Hawkeye away from some of SHIELD's clutches. "Come on up, we'll go head back to civilization -- though you probably need street clothes. Which means we're stopping in Prague to let Argent go shopping. _We_ can stay on the jet while she has fun with her plastic." 

"Argent, huh?" Clint took up that offer; he was feeling somewhat better than when the world had solidified around him, but it was a warm day. "I am very glad Widow didn't come with me on this one; she doesn't like Prague." As he caught sight of the woman on board, he immediately labeled her as 'dangerous'. Anyone that showed that much skin that ran with someone like Arsenal had to be able to truly defend themselves.

"So you're Hawkeye; nice to meet one of the ones that kept Arsenal out of trouble over there," Argent said with confidence.

"I try and stay out of central Europe, mostly," Arsenal said with a wry grin. "So I don't have much of an opinion there. Just to be polite, Hawkeye, this's Argent. And I was right, he needs normal gear. You want to pilot or chat up the new guy?" 

"Me, Chief? You know I do as little work as I have to," Argent said, batting her eyes at Arsenal before focusing on Hawkeye. "Buff like you. Definitely going to allow for the shoulders and back… though I think you've got him there," she said critically.

"He's younger… physically," Clint retorted. "And I have to wiggle through tight spots more than he does, I bet." However, her quick appraisal, and the light-hearted teasing, were doing a lot to settle him into 'safe' as he dropped into a seat. "At least I do have all my gear."

"Probably," Arsenal agreed, reaching out to brush his fingers across her hair before he headed for the pilot's seat, "I leave the sneaking through tiny places to Changeling or 'Wing. Gear's totally the important stuff. Tell her if you've got colors you just hate, or she'll probably manage to bring those back -- " 

"Chief!" 

"Troia can't stand emerald, even though it looks great on her, and I remember that sheathe you got for her," Arsenal retorted, just as playful as she'd been, while he got the jet closed up and the checks run. "Grab a seat, Hawkeye," he advised.

Clint made sure he strapped in, just in case, because he was not piloting. That didn't keep his eyes from going up toward the controls, checking it out as much as he could from behind his pilot. "I like black. Purple in the darker shades. Gray. Don't mind most colors… though I'd rather not look like an advertisement for America or wear red and gold mixed," he joked.

"Don't think they'd look good on you," Argent agreed.

Arsenal laughed, "No, not much," he said, amused, "and wearin' somebody else's colors -- "

"Oh, you mean like that blue-and-black tank of yours?" Argent cut in with a grin and a playful flit of her eyes Hawkeye's way. 

" -- just isn't okay unless it's on purpose," he finished without missing a beat. "So probably no green then?" 

"Big Guy is doing better," Hawkeye admitted cautiously, hoping he was not jinxing his teammate. He filed the blue-and-black away for reference later. "But green washes out my hair…" he protested with a perfectly straight face. "Right, leave off on red too; I don't work it as well as Widow does."

"Ooh the scary good woman on your team? Arsenal said she's as daring as Nightwing and as much a fighter as Starfire." Argent liked women who found their strengths and played into them. It was one reason she was mostly getting along with Dolphin, because the sea-dweller didn't step on many toes since her and Tempest had 'talked', but she would use her strengths for the team as needed. Which mostly was as last defense for the babies these days, but she didn't chafe at it. And no one, even Tempest himself, could get both kids out of the Tower and away unseen as fast.

"She is," Arsenal insisted. 

Hawkeye shrugged a little, "Don't have a basis for comparison yet, didn't really get to talk to Arsenal much -- was a little busy covering his trail; but Widow is... Widow. Nobody I'd rather have at my back. And yeah, 'scary good' suits for a description." 

"Awesome." Argent settled into her seat, and worked on making small constructs. The Green Lantern had suggested she use time when she was confined or occupied with being still to work on her fine control.

"That's new. Something like one of the mutants that's been popping up around Westchester," Hawkeye told her. "Lots of practical application, I bet."

"Mutants?" Argent asked, cocking her head to the side as her hands stilled, her plasma construct flickering but holding. "I'm metahuman, sure, but -- mutant totally makes me think of three-eyed frogs and stuff. And yeah... it's pretty useful, at least, when it does what I want it to." 

"You haven't had it _not_ do what you want in years, Argent," Arsenal said, steady as he could, "and it's more than 'pretty' useful."

"Metahuman." Hawkeye rolled that word, and the mostly positive tone she used, around in his head a bit. "You can shape it… density changes? How permanent? Or impermanent? Tested it against impactive and energy forces?" He was more than willing to learn about the power she was showing, and it might help him one day in his own world if that little school grew to be a threat.

Argent smiled. "Tested it a lot not that long ago; there was some magic and I got turned older, along with my teammate Damage. It gave us a glimpse of what we might mature into." She started playing with it, showing the density changing and how malleable it could be. "Mostly dependent on my will power for staying around, though."

"Knock you out, and it goes away? That could get ugly for anyone you were shielding," Hawkeye said with a frown.

Argent frowned. "The Green Lanterns aren't any better, so it's just something we have to work within, and Damage is pretty good at being my support to keep anything from getting that close." She didn't mention that Damage himself sometimes was the thing that knocked her out, when he lost control. It wasn't his fault, and he was learning how to handle it every time they fought.

"Pretty sure there's nobody with construct ability that _can_ hold 'em up when they're unconscious, Hawkeye," Arsenal called from up front, backing Toni as much as he could. "Seems to go along with the power -- makes sense, given that it's nothing but their will holding pure energy into states it doesn't naturally inhabit." 

"You'd need a layered team approach. Construct user guarding and defending the team as a whole with someone detailed to keep things away from the construct person," Hawkeye mused. 

He wasn't usually the talkative one, but he hated being confined, not in control of their travel, and he was smart enough to know that Stark's use of constant talking served to keep people off-guard or dismiss him as a threat. People still did that, when he was in 'running-mouth' mode.

"Yeah, that's basically what we do, though it's a little more woven than that," Argent said. "A lot of us are better at a distance, but we have a few in-close people as well. So you just learn where to best use each person."

Hawkeye nodded; they were learning that with the Avengers, learning that rank-and-file team deployment couldn't hold up past a real threat engagement.

"And it depends on which problems we're dealing with, too," Arsenal said, starting to drop down into Prague airspace. "HIVE isn't the Fearsome Five isn't Terminator isn't the Cult of Blood -- "

"Isn't the latest meta to sprout powers and decide might makes right, or at least it can get them rich," Argent slid in, her voice amused. "Yeah, I work totally different ways depending on who it is, and how much they can mess with me." 

Hawkeye nodded at that. "Still sounds like we lucked out, Arsenal, when Cap picked your brain on how to work a team like ours."

They had all benefitted from it, even if they'd had no reason… so far… to assemble the full team. Just a few odd runs here and there where a couple of Avengers would show and work together, but that didn't mean they didn't talk. 

"Nice to have all the years I've been shot at come in useful for somebody else," Arsenal said, pretty well satisfied with that. "...how is he? And the classic-rock addict?" 

"Cap's still trying to get grounded in the present; Widow was headed his way as I picked up this run," Hawkeye said. "Stark almost died, again, because he bit off more than he could chew while every single one of us was tied down elsewhere. Corporate grudges and nasty science gone sideways is how Widow summed it up once she was briefed," Hawkeye said. "He's changed some because of it, and his CEO wound up paying a huge part of the bill. She's alright… but SHIELD is uncertain of them now." That last made Hawkeye sound perfectly happy; SHIELD was a dangerous place right now, and Clint still hadn't found all the hidden threads being pulled or clipped.

"Best way for a government agency to be about one of us, as long as it's not likely to turn violent. And dammit, that man isn't Wildcat, he needs to be careful with that whole 'died for a couple minutes' shit," Roy growled, shaking his head in worried frustration. Of course Cap was still trying to deal with culture-shock, who wouldn't be? He had culture shock every time he ran off to the rez for a few months, let alone trying to deal with forty, fifty years difference! "...he's probably got more paranoia of shrinks than most of us, with the way he grew up, but is anyone bribing him into actually trying coping strategies for his PTSD?" 

Hawkeye just made a long, deep sigh to answer that. He'd crossed paths with Bruce recently, and had to listen to the attempt at therapy Tony had made.

"Sounds like the guy is about as good as some of ours at admitting he needs help," Argent cheerfully said as Arsenal was bringing the jet down. "Okay, street clothes for you, something nice for me, and hey, Arsenal, you piss off Troia lately? I can get you a make-up gift if you want."

"No, I have not pissed Troia off recently," Roy replied, copying her tones fairly exactly, "but thanks for the offer, Argent. I appreciate it. Lord knows it happens often enough! See you when you get back." 

As Argent walked off the jet, what Clint had taken for deliberately dramatic choices in her hair and costuming showed as something different. In the sunlight, her skin shimmered with the silver of her powers and her hair nearly drank in the light. 

Hawkeye appreciated the sight, but the back of his mind was playing over the difficulties he'd seen cropping up in the news and in official briefs about the non-human looking mutants. The less normal some of those appeared, the worse the violence and prejudice seemed to be. And yet this … okay, probably not a kid, given what he knew about Arsenal … woman was going to openly walk around in Prague.

He flicked his attention back to the other archer. "Your world doesn't have a problem with her?"

Arsenal slid out of the pilot's chair and came back to sit down across from him, draping back against one of the seats. "Nah, not really. I mean, she gets a hard time sometimes, but it's normally not too bad. Some of the more rabidly evangelical cults think all the metas are demon-spawn," he snorted, darkly amused, "not helped by the couple that _are_. Great people, one of 'em's a teammate." He paused, taking a breath. "Well, when she's on this plane anyway, but that's off-track. Most people that aren't rabidly religious are pretty live-and-let-live... especially after some of the more psychotic members of the rogues kick up trouble in their backyards." 

"Makes sense." Hawkeye appraised the other man. "It hasn't been very long since you were in our world, has it?"

"Few weeks? And no, time doesn't run the same between the worlds. A day here's more like a week over there, or at least that's what we figured. We'll get you home quick as we can, Barton." 

"Would hate to miss any more parties Stark or Nat find for us," Hawkeye said with a dark humor. "Provided, you know, she lets me live for getting lost in the first place." He didn't like the idea of being away from Fury, from Nat as they dug into the mystery hiding inside of SHIELD for too long.

"I still say that thing was _not_ a party, Widow got that right," Arsenal said, shaking his head. "And... from what little I saw of you two, she probably is going to take you getting lost personally. But who would she run with if she didn't have you?" 

"Cap. Potts." Hawkeye gave a snort. "Any damn person she chose to… but she keeps picking me." They were good, easy and relaxed in all the ways people thought they were together, but intense on the actual connection. They owed each other, and had each other's secrets. That was where the tie was.

"Probably reasons for that," Arsenal said with an easy shrug. "Glad to hear things haven't been _too_ terrible since I bailed on y'all."

Hawkeye glared at him. "Because you said that, I am going to miss the next big fight."

"Possible... or one might show up before we get you back there," Arsenal said, his tone dry. "Sorry if I jinxed you, but." 

It was true; he was glad to hear it. He liked Steve, he liked Tony, and he'd liked what he saw of the others.

"Well, I do owe you at least one good fight," Hawkeye said. "You really helped us, and things you shared with Cap kept helping."

++++

"Cyborg, bringing a guest home with me," Arsenal said over comms. "It's Hawkeye, from my little universe hop. Think you can start assembling the thing that got me back?"

"Yeah, Arsenal. Might take some calibrations though, given that you said we left you over there a couple of weeks," Cyborg replied over the cockpit. "Tempest is curious."

The phrasing was code for 'do we hide the kids', and Arsenal looked at his guest, then focused on landing in the upside down Tower. "I'm okay with that." //I trust him. Maybe shouldn't, but Cap was willing to, because he trusted Widow.//

"I'll pass that on. See ya in a bit."

"See ya, Featherhead," Cyborg agreed, and dropped back off the comm. 

"Hey, Hawkeye. Don't flip out when you see us landing, the Tower's a hologram. Actual base is completely underground," Arsenal said with a moment's flick of a grin backwards. "Looks solid, but it's not. We're hoping that does what we need it to without needing to replace quite so much glass every month." //Hoping it stays intact, more like, but if I say it we're doomed.// 

"Neat trick," was Hawkeye's answer as they flew into a 'bay' that masked them from the outside world. Then Arsenal dropped down inside of the hologram to the real landing bay. "Looks like a giant target though, from out there."

"Meant to be… we'd rather find the big bad over the Bay or on the island than in the skyscrapers," Argent answered that.

"Sure is," Arsenal agreed as he put the jet back into its place. "Most of the rogues can't resist the temptation, which gets them away from more of the civilians, while them coming across the Bay gives us a couple minutes' warning. Most of the time, anyway." 

He spotted, out the windshield, that Nightwing had come up to meet the newcomer, along with Tempest, and grinned. "Oh look, more welcoming committee." 

"I'm not usually the poster boy for meeting people. Coulson handled the PR," Hawkeye said but he grabbed his bow and quiver plus the bag of clothes and 'things' Argent had acquired for him to head off.

"Nightwing's technically team leader, and Tempest is one of the other seniors," Argent said as she looked out to see who it was. "I say technically, because sometimes the seniors quibble on it."

"Stoplight wouldn't know what to do if we didn't argue with him," Arsenal said with a grin as he finished post-flight and headed for the hatch, "Besides, we have to keep him from the worst of his Batty moods somehow." 

//Damnit, _why_ did they have to keep doing that?// That was the agent Steve had been grieving. But hey, maybe in another reality it wouldn't call any ghosts. He made sure Hawkeye was off one shoulder as he headed across the bay, turning just enough to make casual introductions once he was close to two of his best friends. "Shortpants, Gillhead -- I mean, Nightwing, Tempest, this's Hawkeye." 

"Thanks Bowbreath, I mean Arsenal," Tempest said blandly. He then stuck his hand out to carefully shake hands, deciding the guy was at least close to baseline human from what he could pick up that way.

"Tempest and Nightwing," Hawkeye said. "Not planning on staying long, I hope, but if something comes up, I owe your archer for helping us," he offered straight away. He thought the one with the scar or tat over the eye was very unusual looking, his handshake as strong as Thor's, and… there was something that Hawkeye could not yet place about him. The other guy, conventionally pretty and built like a dancer, had that particular set of jaw and eye that Hawkeye knew as 'leader'.

"Going to go find Troia, tell her about the dress I saw, see if she's doing any fashion shoots soon," Argent said. "See you around, Hawkeye." She darted on down into the living parts of the Tower.

NIghtwing appraised Hawkeye for a long moment, waiting for Tempest to let go before he stretched out his own hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you. I'll hope we don't have to take you up on that, but I appreciate it." 

No stranger to hard missions or hard choices, he saw in the easy, capable way Hawkeye held himself, the way he had checked the entire bay as he followed Arsenal. Calm despite the strangeness of his situation... and if his gut told him anything, it was that this was a good man, if one more in Slade's mold than Bruce's. 

"It's only right to balance books if there's a chance," Hawkeye said easily, keeping the serious force of that cloaked. "Glad Arsenal was willing to come get me. Central Europe, in my world, is not somewhere you want to be ignorant of the cultural norms and trying to get the hell out of dodge."

"I owed your team big time for keeping me out of the deepest waters over there," Arsenal said, shrugging it off. "And having gone rounds with Vertigo, who runs that country, I'd rather you not have to face him." He shuddered, remembering before Vertigo got his pardon.

Hawkeye nodded at that, and settled in to wait on a way home, or a good fight on this side of the multiverse.

+++++

The fight cropped up the next day, while the younger team members were away handling a problem in Vermont. That left Nightwing and his friends, plus an extra archer, to help handle Per Degaton's foot soldiers while the JSA went after the time-changer himself.

Clint went high, courtesy of Troia, while Roy stayed down in the mix. He had an admiration for the way Roy could work the field without the bird's eye view, but he didn't want to make any mistakes.

He had to admit that these Titans worked with a smooth cohesion that almost put his partnership with Natasha to shame. One would hold a fight, spin to handle something else, and then a different Titan was stepping into the hole.

The fight was over in half the time it had taken to contain New York, and Clint found himself exuberantly hugged by a real alien that put a lot of Earth girls to shame in more ways than one as he was plucked from his vantage point.

"You were magnificent!" Starfire praised him, taking him toward the rendezvous at the jet.

"Ah, thanks? Wasn't really anything that special, just -- " 

He liked heights, really, but he wasn't so sure about this whole flying under an alien's own power (as opposed to repulsors or even Mjolnir)... or, really, about the press of all of her curves against him. "I mean -- " 

"Star, babe," Arsenal called, "pretty sure Hawkeye there knows Pushtu, while you're having your fun..." 

"Ooh! New language?" And Starfire took advantage of the close carry to kiss Clint far more thoroughly than he'd been kissed in a couple of weeks.

"That was a dirty trick to play," Donna said next to Roy, even as she smiled and watched for how well Clint handled the effect their vivacious powerhouse had.

"He looked a little flustered," Roy replied, flicking an amused glanced at Donna, "and, well. Hard to be freaked when she's laying one on you, right?" 

"Isn't that the truth," Cyborg answered for Donna as he came to them. A moment later, Starfire had landed and set Clint on his feet.

"Isn't she something?" Roy asked with an irrepressible grin.

"Yes," Clint agreed. He might leave that part out when he briefed with Natasha back home, though.

"We've got the all clear," Nightwing said as he arrived from talking to the police. "Nice job, Hawkeye. Team, you all did great," he praised. "Little patchy on the cover, Arsenal."

"Maybe because you decided to use the bad guys as spring boards?" Arsenal shot right back, no rancor between them as they nit-picked each other.

Clint nodded at Nightwing, but he listened to the banter between the two men. What was it about this team that let them gel so easily? He was used to watching people, to learning what made them tick, and under this professional team was a deep foundation of trust and loyalty.

It's what let him and Nat keep each other safe, and it was what the Avengers truly needed to be the team the world needed.

He just wondered how you made it happen when the people came from such different lifestyles, like these Titans had.

+++++

"... not my Midgard," could clearly be heard before every alarm in the Tower yelled at the team.

"I think that's my call," Clint said from where he'd been watching the children of the team play, pondering what kind of existence they could possibly grow up with among superheroes. He rose from the couch, even as Roy got up from being the 'horse' the kids had been playing with.

He came over and reached out, with Clint grabbing his hand tight in farewell.

"Tell them both, don't be stupid, okay?" Roy said. "And take care of yourself or the Widow will kill you."

"I know it's not your Midgard; would you please move back?" came the irritated tones of Selvig as the portal shimmered clearly into view.

"Barton!" Thor thundered through the opening, making Clint shake his head even as he sprinted for the opening back to home. He dove through, hoping Nat forgave him for however long he'd missed.


End file.
